


Seven and a Half Years

by edna_blackadder



Category: Sports Night
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edna_blackadder/pseuds/edna_blackadder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam runs into a very drunk Dan and kindly takes him home. The next day, Dan wakes up with a disturbing gap in his memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven and a Half Years

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to sarcasticsra for beta reading, encouragement, and helping my severely math-challenged brain crunch numbers, and thanks to rabbitfics for allowing me to drag her into this fandom and inspiring me to finish this story with her myriad emails of episode commentary and squee. You both rock, and you both made this thing MUCH better than it otherwise would have been.

When Sam had said to his cab driver, “Take me to a café,” he had been thinking of a cheap, out of the way place—at the very least, somewhere quiet and suitably devoid of anyone he might know. Dan Rydell currently ranked very high on the list of people he would have liked to avoid at all costs, but there he was at the bar, knocking back what Sam highly doubted was his first shot of the night. Sam turned to leave, but Dan, spinning on his barstool, saw him, leaned forward, and promptly overbalanced, landing on the floor. Sam groaned, crossed over to the bar and extended his hand.

“Sam!” Dan choked. “Have a drink! On me!”

“I can’t.” Sam pulled Dan to his feet. “You should go home.”

“Oh no,” Dan slurred. “Not nearly drunk enough yet. I wanna be smashed out of my mind, Sam. Out of my mind. I wanna forget everything. Forget this whole week. Forget my whole life.”

Sam shook his head. Food would have to wait. “Dan, how many of me do you see right now?”

Dan considered. “About three?”

“Where do you live?”

Dan rattled off an address, and Sam led him outside. “So,” said Dan, once they were seated in a cab, “don’t you want to know why I’m so drunk?”

“Not really,” said Sam, staring straight ahead, “but I sense that you’re going to tell me.”

“There’s this girl, Rebecca. She’s amazing, Sam. You’d like her. She’s so funny, and so beautiful. I really like her. I really, really like her. I mean, I really, really, really—”

“I get it,” Sam interrupted.

“Well, the first time we broke up—that was a long time ago, a really long time ago, like two years ago—”

“Okay—”

“She went back to her husband, a slimeball named Steve Sisco—”

“The Steve Sisco?”

“Yeah, him—he treated her rotten, but she went back to him, moved out west to be with him—and it broke my heart, Sam, I’m telling you, broke my heart—”

“Okay—”

“And then a year later she came back, and they were really divorced—I mean, she said they were divorced the first time, but it turned out, you know, not so much. But she came back, same night that the show was saved, best night of my life, Sam, seriously. And I called her that night, and she said she wanted me back, and I swear, Sam, it had been a whole year, but I still really liked her. And now it’s been another half a year. It was so great. I really liked her. I really, really liked her.”

Dan paused, and after a moment Sam asked, against his better judgement, “Past tense?”

“It was great. And then—and then it wasn’t, all of a sudden it just wasn’t working. We broke up for good two days ago. And I’m broken, Sam. It bites. It bites hard. I really liked her. And it’s over. It’s over. But you know what’s worse? And I wouldn’t tell just anybody this. You’re a lucky man, Sam. I thought she was the one. I mean, the one. ’Cause at first, when I was with her, I finally didn’t wish it was Casey sitting across from me. But she left. And then she came back. And it was great. But then it wasn’t. And I started thinking that again. Comparing her to Casey—and Casey won. You know? Casey won. Just like always. Casey always won.”

Sam swallowed. It wasn’t really surprising when he thought about it. He swallowed again and fought back a surge of jealousy toward Casey McCall, remembering how Dana had been in love with him too, at least at first. “You love Casey.”

“Course I love Casey,” Dan slurred. “He’s my partner. We’ve been together for years, ever since Lone Star Sports on November 23rd. Oh, Sam, you have no idea—I love him so much.”

Sam leaned back in his seat. “I think I have a pretty good idea. I take it nobody knows.”

“Nope. Nobody knows. Not even Abby.”

“Who’s Abby?”

“My therapist. Rebecca didn’t like her very much.”

The cab driver pulled over to the curb. Sam paid the fee, helped Dan out of the car and guided him to his apartment building. “Where’re your keys?” he asked, as Dan wobbled against him.

“My back pocket,” Dan mumbled.

Sam reached for them, fumbling a bit in the darkness. “Mmmm,” Dan sighed. “You could do more of that. I wouldn’t mind.”

Sam shook his head. “You’re drunk, Dan.”

Sam found Dan’s keys and let them both in, allowing Dan to lean heavily on him. Dan sighed again, burying his face in Sam’s neck. “You’re a real nice guy, Sam.”

The wait for the elevator felt uncomfortably long to Sam, even though it had probably only been about a minute. The ride felt even longer, not least because Dan had tentatively begun to kiss his collarbone. Sam felt his body react and swore under his breath.

When they finally reached Dan’s floor, Sam walked him to his door as quickly as he could, but he didn’t get the door open fast enough. Dan leaned in and began kissing him insistently. Sam stood rooted to the ground, momentarily unable to pull away. When he recovered his senses and broke the kiss, Dan stared at him with a combination of puppy eyes and drunken desperation. “Come in,” he whispered.

Sam backed away, and Dan stumbled into the doorframe. “No,” he said firmly. “Good night, Dan.” Sam pressed Dan’s keys into his hand, and despite his words, did enter his apartment briefly to march him over to the nearest sofa. “Sleep well.”

Sam turned on his heel and left, hoping against hope that Dan would remember absolutely none of this in the morning.

*

Dan woke up two hours after he should have been at work with a splitting headache, extreme nausea and no memory of the night before, other than that he had been smashed out of his head. After a frantic call to the office (during which Natalie had yelled at him for two and a half minutes, then said she was sorry about Rebecca and told him to come in whenever he was ready), four rounds of vomiting, a cold shower and three cups of coffee, he made it to work, four hours late and still feeling lousy.

“Hey, you look just like my partner, Dan Rydell,” Casey remarked sardonically. “Seriously, Dan, what happened?”

“That’s just it, Casey,” Dan said wretchedly as he sat down. “I have no idea. I was—well, I was upset about Rebecca, and I went to this out of the way all-night café with the intention of getting extremely drunk, and I must have succeeded, because I don’t remember anything!”

“Okay, okay, relax. You went to a bar. You got extremely drunk, and you woke up—where?”

“It wasn’t a bar. It was a café. And I woke up at home, passed out on my living room couch. I have no idea how.”

“And you were alone?”

Dan made a face. “No, Casey, I woke up with a beautiful stranger and I just didn’t think to ask her what happened. Of course I was alone.”

“When did you get to the bar?”

“It was a café. Around 12:30 A.M. I did shots. A lot of them. I was drunk in under an hour. I think I was singing show tunes—stop laughing, this is serious. I have no memory of last night at all. This hasn’t happened to me since college.”

“Think. Think hard. Did you meet anyone in this place?”

“I have no idea, Casey.”

“Well, it sounds like somebody took you home.”

“I don’t think so…” Dan’s voice trailed off as a solitary, horrible image flashed through his mind.

“What? Do you remember something?”

“Shit,” Dan breathed. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“What is it? Danny, what is it?”

But Dan was already gone, leaving Casey to stare after him, slack-jawed. He ran all the way to Isaac’s office, ignoring the unpleasant feeling in his head and stomach as he did so.

“Isaac,” Dan gasped between breaths, “I need—I need Sam’s—I need Sam Donovan—I need Sam Donovan’s phone number, and I need you to not ask why, I just need it—”

“Danny,” Isaac said sternly, “what is this about?”

“Isaac, I had a very bad night last night, and I don’t know what happened, but I think I ran into Sam, and I need to talk to him, fast.”

“When I last heard from him, Sam was in Australia. You must have had a very bad night if you think you saw him. And he won’t like me giving out his phone number to anyone who asks.”

“No, Isaac, listen. I’m sure it was him. I really need to get in touch with him. Please. I won’t share his phone number, I promise. Not even with Dana. I swear.”

“Danny, what happened last night? Why were you four hours late to work today?”

“I was drunk. Really, really, really drunk. I was upset about Rebecca, and I got drunk. And I don’t remember anything, except—”

“Except that you ran into Sam?”

“Yeah. I ran into Sam. I’m sure it was Sam. I ran into him, and I need to talk to him, so I need his phone number—”

“Danny, I’m not an idiot. I can see that there’s something you’re not telling me. Why is this important? So you ran into Sam, so what?”

“I can’t tell you why, but it is important. It’s very important. Please. I need to talk to him.”

Isaac looked at him for a moment, then said, “Okay. But if you dreamed this, you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.” He scribbled a phone number on a Post-It note, folded it half, and handed it over. “And Dan?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get to work!”

“Will do. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

“Danny—”

“Right. Work. Got it.”

“So,” said Casey expectantly, before Dan reached the couch, “are you planning on telling me what the hell that was about?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Danny—”

“I really, really don’t want to talk about it. My head is throbbing, Casey.”

Casey folded his arms, clearly not about to let it go. “Yet you managed to run out of here like your pants were on fire. What happened?”

“I still don’t know.”

“You know something.”

“I don’t know enough.”

“Well, what do you know?”

Dan groaned. “Please, Casey.”

“All right.”

Dan looked up. “All right?”

“I’ll leave you alone.”

“Really?”

“Well, for the next five minutes, anyway.”

Dan reached for a pillow and covered his face with it. “Can we just work?”

Casey snorted. “I’m at my desk, writing our script, while you lie on the couch holding a pillow over your face.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You’d better.”

“I will.”

“I know.”

Dan nodded absently, knowing as he did so that Casey couldn’t actually see his face. He fingered the crumpled phone number in his pocket and felt his hands begin to shake involuntarily. He had been kissing Sam Donovan. That was the only thing he knew for sure, and there was no way that whatever had happened to precipitate it could have been in any way good. He had been kissing Sam Donovan in the hallway outside his apartment. He had been kissing Sam Donovan, who was apparently supposed to be in Australia but had definitely been in New York, in the hallway outside his apartment.

He needed to get in touch with him. He needed to use that phone number right now, but he couldn’t, not with Casey sitting right there. But from what little he knew about Sam Donovan, he had a feeling that every second was crucial. The longer he waited, the more likely the man had disappeared already.

Dan considered. He already owed Casey…whatever the hell Casey wanted, really, for not killing him right now. Running out again, before he had even begun to try to make up his current writing debt, was not going to help matters. But he couldn’t, under any circumstances, let Sam Donovan crawl back into his private black hole as if nothing had happened, because something had happened, and he needed to know what. All he knew was that he had been blind drunk, and they had been kissing.

That wasn’t unlike him. Had he chosen a career in which such an observation could be safely made, Dan would have readily acknowledged finding Sam attractive. Of course, then he wouldn’t have met Sam in the first place. Or Casey, for that matter.

Dan shuddered. He had been drunk beyond all reason. If not for Sam, he might have woken up in the hospital. It had been about ten years since the last time he’d been that drunk, but he remembered his old friends’ reports: “You wouldn’t shut up, Dan. No matter how we begged. At first it was funny, but then you started saying things I really don’t think you ordinarily would have shared…”

It was definitely not out of the realm of possibility that he might have eagerly spilled his most closely guarded secret, the one thing he couldn’t even bring himself to admit to Abby. At the very least, he needed to know if the number of people who knew that he was very, very much in love with Casey had suddenly increased to two. And then there was the matter of Dana.

Dan still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened between Dana and Sam, but whatever it was, it had mattered to her. He remembered her face, upon realizing that Sam had skipped out on the strawberry cake. Dana had looked like she had been punched in the gut, and then she had gone uncharacteristically quiet and disappeared off to the side, dragging Natalie along with her. Later, she’d yelled at Jeremy over something that hadn’t even begun to warrant it, and everyone else had it written off as anger on Natalie’s behalf, which it was, but to Dan, it had seemed strangely intense. And, after making such a production out of Not Missing Sam Donovan _before_ he’d stood her up, she had never mentioned his name again, not once. However little there might have been, it had affected her. If Dan had drunkenly, carelessly slept with Sam, he knew he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eyes until she knew, even if he knew at the same time that it was probably in everyone’s best interest if she didn’t.

Dan threw the pillow aside, then sat up. “I’ll be right back,” he said quickly, carefully directing this statement just over Casey’s shoulder, unable to meet his eyes, before he hurried outside again to make his phone call.

*

Sam sipped his Coke and checked his watch. Twelve-thirty, Dan had said, twelve-thirty at the very latest. It was 12:20 now, and if it got to 12:35, he was going back to his hotel. He scanned the room again, as if Dan could possibly have materialized in the ten seconds he’d looked down at his watch, and scowled fiercely. A woman who had been looking, if not at him, at least in his direction, hastily turned away.

He hadn’t meant to agree to the meeting. He hadn’t even wanted to pick up his phone when he recognized the switchboard number, but it could have been Isaac, so he had answered, against his better judgment, knowing that it wasn’t. He had listened quietly to Dan’s pleading, and he just hadn’t been able to find it in his heart to say no. It was more than a little unsettling just how earnest and desperate the man had managed to sound, especially considering that he really hadn’t said much of anything. _Please,_ Dan had begged, _I need to see you._ And before reality could return, Sam had already nodded and told him to name a time and a place.

Dan burst into the café at 12:25, flushed and panting. He waved to Sam, made his way to the bar to order a Coke, managed a wan smile for the bartender as he paid his tab for the previous night, and then sat down. “Sorry,” he said, by way of greeting, “I would’ve been here sooner, but I kept having this weird feeling that I was being followed, so I took a couple weird turns. Has that ever happened to you?”

“No, but then again, I’m not on television.”

Dan grinned. “Ah yes. The price of fame. The dark lining in the silver cloud. The—”

Sam cut him off. “I know you didn’t bring me here to make small talk, Dan.”

Dan shrugged. “Okay. Fine. No small talk. What happened last night?”

“You were drunk. I took you home.”

Dan looked pained, and his voice took on the same earnest, desperate quality. “We were kissing. That’s all I remember. I was kissing you. How did that happen?”

It was Sam’s turn to shrug. “You were drunk.”

“Besides that. I mean, what did I say? What did I do? I need to know.”

“I took you home. I needed your keys to do that, and they were in your back pocket. You took that as an invitation. I brought you upstairs, deposited you on your couch, and left.”

“Oh.” Then: “So—we didn’t?”

Sam groaned. “Dan, what kind of a man do you think I am? I don’t take advantage of drunk people.”

“From what I’ve heard, you don’t take advantage of sober people, either.” Sam felt himself stiffen, and after a moment the impulsive accusation disappeared from Dan’s face and was replaced with an expression of self-disgust and instant regret. “I’m sorry. That was completely inappropriate, and over the line, and—”

Sam let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and he felt his tension lessen slightly. “No,” he said slowly, “it wasn’t, really.”

Dan’s eyes widened. “Isaac said you were supposed to be in Australia. How come you’re here?”

“That’s a bit of a personal question.”

Dan shook his head. “It’s not like I have any secrets from you anymore. Or do I? That’s the other thing I needed to know.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “If you mean, did you profess your undying love for Casey, then yes, you did.”

Dan buried his face in his hands. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”

“Why?”

Dan’s head jerked upwards in surprise. “What do you mean, why?”

“Why were you afraid of that? You can’t possibly imagine I care.”

Dan shook his head. “It’s not that. Until now, no one knew. I mean, no one knew, no one at all. Even my therapist doesn’t know.”

Sam nodded. “You mentioned something about that. And the fact of the matter is I don’t care, so you’re fine.”

“Is there anything you do care about?” Dan asked sharply. Sam started, and this time Dan did not back down. But before he could continue, the door to the café opened, and Casey McCall stormed in, practically radiating anger, only to stop in his tracks, his mouth hanging open, when he saw Sam.

“I’m sorry,” Dan was saying, not having seen Casey and not sounding sorry at all, “but she is my friend, you know. That’s why I was worried about the fact that I was kissing you. Pawing at whoever was nice enough to take me home is one thing, but sleeping with someone who matters to Dana…that’s different.”

Sam’s eyes were locked on Casey’s, the latter standing frozen in shock, still unnoticed by Dan, when he realized what Dan had just said. “I matter to her?” he asked, unable to keep the wonder out of his voice. “Define ‘matter.’”

Dan shrugged, but this time his shrug had a defensive air to it, as if he feared he had just said too much. “She was quiet. You’ve met Dana. She’s never quiet. And it’s been, what, eight months now? She hasn’t been single this long since…well, a while.”

“So she’s not with Casey.”

“No. They never dated, and now they probably never will, which makes it easier for me to—”

“Dan—” Sam tried to interrupt, but Dan wasn’t listening.

“—get through my workday without wanting to kick something, but ultimately doesn’t change anything, because—”

“Dan—” Sam tried again, as Casey’s eyes grew wide, but Dan pressed on. Sam realized with a jolt that Dan had probably never had a chance to say this out loud, and wasn’t going to shut up until he had finished.

“—Casey doesn’t want me. He’s as straight as an arrow, as far as I know.”

Behind Dan, Casey turned purple. Sam winced. “Dan, turn around.”

Dan did so, confused, and then hastily turned back to Sam, his mouth open, his face burning red, and his hands shaking a little. “How long has he—”

“I just came in.” Casey, Sam thought, looked surprisingly calm. Stunned, bewildered, but calm, and especially calm for someone who just seconds ago had been quite obviously furious. “I was following you earlier, but you lost me.”

“Casey, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to—”

“Dan,” Casey interrupted, and this time Dan fell silent. “Two things. One: if I am having this conversation, I am having it with you alone. Two: that said, I don’t mind letting Sam know that, on at least one point, you’ve greatly misled him.” Casey was, unbelievably, actually smiling now. He turned to Sam. “Dan’s right about one thing, though. Dana would like to see you. Don’t get me wrong, she hates you and I wouldn’t put it past her to have put a price on your head, but she would like to see you. Now, do you have any further business with Danny?”

Sam almost laughed at that. “He’s all yours.”

Casey grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

*

Dan’s hands were still shaking as he followed Casey outside, unable to look him in the eyes, not quite daring to believe the strong implication in what he had just heard. Pointless denials formed on the tip of his tongue, ready to spew forth uselessly as soon as the door closed behind him, but he only got as far as “Casey, listen, I—” before Casey cut him off again.

“No, you listen, Danny. Because, as I just explained to Sam, you seem to have things a little confused.”

Dan swallowed hard. “Enlighten me.”

“For the last six months, you were dating Rebecca.”

“I think I knew that part.”

“Did you ever happen to notice that I really kind of hate Rebecca?”

Dan blinked. “You what?”

“As far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t deserve you and she never did. I know you’re over the whole lying-about-still-being-married-to-Steve-Sisco-and-then-dumping-you-for-him thing, but as your best friend, I don’t forgive so easily. I think, if you consider your continued hatred for Lisa, you can perhaps begin to understand that and stop giving me that look. At any rate, I kept my mouth shut because I wanted you to be happy, and for a while, it looked like you were.”

“Um—” Dan started, before realizing that he didn’t really have anything to say in reply to that, because it had been so far from anything he’d expected to hear. Casey apparently took that as his cue to continue.

“I’m not gonna lie to you. I am very, very glad you broke up with her of your own accord, because pretending to be happy for you was getting to be almost impossible for me toward the end. Because, see, I wanted you to be happy, but for a while you were getting to be much too happy. For a while, I was afraid you were going to marry her, and then I really hated her, for reasons having nothing to do with the first time you broke up. I was jealous, Danny. Jealous of her. You’ve dated a lot of women, and I was never actually jealous of any of them before now.”

Dan was fairly certain that the movements of his mouth as he answered Casey had to be phantom sensations, because there was no way that his jaw wasn’t lying somewhere in the vicinity of the Earth’s core. “You were…jealous…of Rebecca.”

“Yeah. For a few months, too. You taunted me with your sickening happiness long enough to give me some time to think about that. I don’t think I imagined having this conversation with you for, oh, the next ten years, if ever, but I had some time to think about what I might say if I did.”

For a moment Dan simply stared at him, dumbstruck. Then he summoned his courage and admitted, “I’ve had seven and a half years to think about what I might say.”

It was, finally, Casey’s turn to stare, open-mouthed and lost for words, and Dan smiled in triumph. It was a long moment before Casey managed to repeat, barely audibly, “Seven and a half years?”

His smile quickly breaking into full-on ridiculous grin, Dan stepped closer to Casey. “There was never any danger that I would marry Rebecca,” he said, extending his arms in invitation. “I wanted there to be. I really wanted there to be, because I never imagined I’d ever hear you say any of the things you just said.”

“Well…you heard them,” said Casey, stepping into Dan’s arms.

Dan embraced Casey and felt himself shiver as Casey’s arms wrapped around him in return. He very, very much wanted to kiss him, but they were still in public, a fact of which Casey also seemed to still be aware. “Yeah,” Dan agreed, whispering into Casey’s ear. “And seven and a half years was long enough for me to settle on simply ‘I love you.’”

Dan felt Casey’s grip on him tighten. “I love you too, Danny.”

The next day, Dan was once again late to work, but this time he had never felt better, and Casey was at his side. They stepped out of the elevator prepared for all kinds of lectures from Dana and Natalie, but found instead the entire staff gathered around the control room window, where Dana and Sam Donovan were clearly visible. Dana appeared to be yelling, and she appeared to have been doing so for quite some time. Dan halted, as did Casey.

When Dana’s anger finally appeared spent, Sam finally spoke. Dan didn’t need to hear what he said, if Dana’s face, which bore a remarkable resemblance to what Casey’s had looked like the night before, was any indication.

Dan smiled. “He wouldn’t tell me why he was in town, but I seem to have guessed right.”

Casey grinned back at him. “I think I deserve the credit for actually telling him to go for it.”

“I think, given that it’s already one o’clock, we should get to our office before anyone remembers to kill us.”

“I think that sounds like a plan.”


End file.
